


5 Minutes of Predictions

by Impala_Chick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Festivals, First Kiss, Fortune Telling, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, POV Scott, Werewolf Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles volunteer at the Lacrosse Team's face painting booth for the BH Spring Festival. When they take a break, Stiles convinces Scott to visit a fortune teller; she illuminates some surprising truths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Minutes of Predictions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Major](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/gifts).



> This prompt was way too fun and just had to be written :)

Scott watched as Stiles carefully added purple dots onto a little boy’s cheek. Stiles' hand was moving carefully and slowly, and his long fingers easily gripped the brush. Scott couldn’t help but let his eyes be drawn to Stiles lips, as he pursed them in concentration. When Stiles was done, he pulled his hand back and grinned triumphantly at the boy. Stiles looked over at Scott, and Scott handed the boy a hand mirror.

The boy squealed with delight at the blue and purple butterfly painted across his cheek. He jumped off the stool and thanked Stiles before he raced off. A little girl climbed on the stool to be face-painted next. Scott couldn’t help but admire Stiles’ inhuman level of patience he had exhibited with the various children who had stopped at their booth.

“You’re up, Scotty,” Stiles said easily, clapping him on the shoulder before handing him a paintbrush. Scott took over Stiles’ seat, silently cursing Finstock for putting the Lacrosse team up to this. While Scott wholeheartedly supported volunteering at the Beacon Hills Spring Festival, he was no artist. Stiles had graciously agreed to paint the first five kids, but now Scott was going to have to give it a shot. Scott eyed the waiting kid warily, hoping that he could somehow use his werewolf powers to communicate to her telepathically and force her to pick something like a happy face. Or a triangle. 

“I want to be a werewolf!” The girl exclaimed, clapping her hands. Scott stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but he heard Stiles snickering behind him. He shot him a warning look, and Stiles shut his mouth. Scott looked away before he started smiling too. 

“Okay, this might take a while,” Scott said with as much cheer as he could muster to make the girl feel comfortable, and winked at her before he dipped his brush in brown paint. 

Scott could feel Stiles watching him, and a smell Scott couldn’t quite place was emanating from Stiles in waves. It was the smell Scott always associated with Stiles – some parts happiness, some parts teenage lust, with bits of pain lurking in the background. Scott shrugged it off, as he generally tried to avoid smelling people unless they were missing. For some reason, smelling someone always felt more invasive than listening to conversations.

10 minutes later, Scott held up the mirror for the girl. Huge brown eyebrows were drawn in all around her real eyebrows, and long black whiskers were drawn on her cheeks. She looked more like a cat than a werewolf, but she seemed to like it. She smiled, and Scott high-fived her. She scurried off just as Finstock walked up and told them to take a break. Scott sighed with relief. Liam, Hayden, and Mason were right behind him, ready to take over. Liam reluctantly picked up a paintbrush. 

“Good luck, Liam,” Stiles offered. Scott just shrugged and headed out before they tried to ask him for painting advice.

Stiles jumped up to follow Scott out of the Lacrosse Team booth, both of them eager to say hello to friends and get some food. 

“Dude, this is fun,” Stiles chattered next to Scott as they meandered between booths, “I think the kids love our booth the best. Probably because we’re cute.” 

Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and elbowed Scott between his ribs. 

“No, I think it’s definitely because I’m the next Picasso.” Stiles laughed at Scott’s remark, and Scott elbowed him back. They ambled on in companionable silence for a while, Scott trailing just slightly behind Stiles to appreciate the view in a friendly way, not in a creepy wow-I’d-hit-that way. Sometimes Scott was thankful Stiles didn’t have superpowers, because there were plenty of inappropriate things Stiles would have noticed. 

Stiles abruptly stopped and threw out his arm to close-line Scott and make him stop too. 

“Dude.” Scott huffed, annoyed.

Stiles pointed at the booth he had stopped in front of. A white sign at the top said FORTUNE TELLER in glittery black block letters. Dark green curtains were drawn closed around the booth, and an A-frame sign on the ground announced that “5 minutes of predictions” cost $5. 

“Let’s do it. It could be fun. I have $5.” Stiles was already walking into the booth, and Scott halfheartedly followed along. He pictured an old gray-haired woman with a black robe gazing into a crystal ball and telling them to do their homework. 

The woman inside the tent was not at all what he pictured.

She was a younger brunette, with a “normal” green shirt on and jeans. She sat at a small table covered by a white tablecloth, and smiled at them as they walked in. No crystal balls in sight. 

“Welcome, boys. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to two wooden chairs on the other side of the table. Stiles slapped a five dollar bill down in front of her and plopped down into one of the chairs. 

“I’m Stiles, and this is Scott.” Stiles pointed at him as he took a seat next to Stiles.

“Best friends since before you could walk, I presume?” The woman said as she reached out and pocketed the bill that Stiles had left on the table. 

Stiles nodded vigorously next to Scott, and Scott couldn’t help but laugh.

“You could say that.”

She leaned forward then, her elbows on the table. She made eye contact with each of them for what seemed like a creepy amount of time. Scott noticed in his peripheral vision that Stiles was acting completely enthralled by her gaze. 

“Can I see your hands? Put your dominant hand palms up on the table,” she instructed them, sounding pretty bored. Clearly she had been doing this all day. 

Scott and Stiles did as instructed. The woman leaned forward and started to examine the lines on Scott’s palm first. Scott almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

Something about Scott’s hand immediately perked her up and she glanced between the two of them. She let Scott go, and closely traced the lines along Stiles’ palm with her pointer finger. Then she let Stiles’ hand rest on the table, and leaned back in her chair. She looked surprised. 

“Okay, you might not like what I have to say,” she started after a beat of silence. Now Scott was curious. 

“But I can tell you that in the future, you’re still going to be saving the world. It’s in your blood now, there’s no going back. Stiles, you’re not going to regret your decision to say no, because you’ll need your humanity.”

Scott’s mouth fell open in disbelief. The fortune teller didn’t react to his expression, and continued on.

“You two are going to be your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. I can also tell you that you are going to be happy. Together.” 

Stiles put up his hand for a high-five. Scott returned it, but he was still a bit stunned at what this woman was saying. Maybe she wasn’t being super specific, but still. She could only be referencing one thing; how could she possibly know that Stiles had refused the bite and stayed human instead?

“I think you misunderstand. Together as in a couple.” She sat back after dropping that bit of information, and Scott hesitantly glanced over at Stiles. Stiles kept his eyes forward, but his knee started bouncing up and down nervously. 

Scott felt himself start to sweat, but he tentatively laughed to dissipate the tension. Stiles was refusing to look at him, which was making things worse. Stiles could have just laughed it off and told her she was crazy, but he didn’t make any move to brush it off. 

Scott jumped up. He needed some air before he said something stupid. Was Stiles actually considering it? Them together? 

“Uh, thanks,” Scott mumbled before he rushed out of the tent. He started walking briskly towards the bleachers, half hoping Stiles wouldn’t follow and half hoping he would.

Scott heavily sat down, and Stiles quickly appeared at this side. 

“Crazy, huh?” Stiles leaned into Scott, his voice light. But he smelled nervous, and Scott was careful not to reach out.

“I dunno. Maybe I - uh. Maybe I’d be down?” Scott was hesitant, but he decided to float the idea. Get Stiles’ reaction. Stiles had said things more sexual and they had brushed it off before. Surely their friendship could survive an ill-timed confession. Scott was only risking personal shame at this point.

“You’d be 'down'?” Stiles emphasized the last word by using air quotes. “That’s how you confess your undying love to me?”

Scott winced. Fair point. But they weren’t in a life or death situation, they weren’t at prom, and Scott didn’t have any paper to write on. Those were his tried and true methods; being pushed by a fortune teller was a new thing. Cut him some slack.

Stiles’ scowl lifted into a smile, and he started laughing uncontrollably. He couldn’t even catch his breath. Scott sat, stunned. 

“Are you going to let me in on the joke?” Scott growled, moving into Stiles’ space, still without touching.

“I think it’s ironic that some fortune teller has to tell you we could be together before you bring it up.” Stiles shrugged, his face flushed from laughing.

Scott started to protest – he had a million excuses swirling in his mind, a million reasons why he had waited it out, most of them revolving around the fact that he was an Alpha and he had to constantly stay vigilant for the pack and maybe he hadn’t realized anything between them was different until recently and really, why would Scott have suspected it to be this easy?

Stiles clearly saw Scott struggling for words and decided to be merciful. “Don’t make it weird, dude. Just plant one on me. Let’s try it.”

“Fine,” Scott huffed as he leaned forward.

“Fine.” 

Scott ignored the knot in his stomach and watched Stiles’ eyelids flutter closed in anticipation. Then, Scott felt his lips graze Stiles’. It was so gentle, _painfully_ gentle. Gentle was so _not_ Scott’s style. Scott let instinct take over and grabbed Stiles’ face to hold him still. His tongue pushed past Stiles’ bottom lip and licked the inside of Stiles' mouth. 

The kiss was Scott’s way of staking a claim, but Scott figured Stiles already knew that. Scott inhaled deeply and soon Scott’s head was swimming with the smell of Stiles’ arousal.

Stiles pulled back, out of breath. He searched Scott’s face, a question forming on his lips. Scott waited patiently, noticing that all tension between them had seemingly evaporated into the bright spring day. 

“I mean – that wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened,” Stiles quipped with a wide, toothy smile. 

A thought occurred to Scott, and he immediately had to ask. “Did you pay that lady to say that stuff?” Scott was only half-joking. 

“I would never ruin the integrity of the Beacon Hills Festival with such petty corruption,” Stiles replied matter-of-factly as he jumped up off the bleachers. Scott trailed after him, surprised that Stiles was reacting so calmly to what had just happened between them. Stiles had lit a fire within Scott, and Scott could be patient, but he would eventually make good on his earlier claim.

“In any event, you think she’s here because of the nemeton?” Stiles whispered over his shoulder, knowing that Scott could hear him. 

Scott groaned loudly. There was no way Stiles could miss the indignation implied by Scott's tone.

“Dude, we are NOT going to harass the fortune teller.” 

The dust had just settled on their last misadventure, Beacon Hills was still recovering from death and maiming, and Liam was watching Mason like a hawk to see if anything was amiss. Scott was so _not_ in the mood to discover another supernatural problem. He could leave well enough alone, at this point. Even spooky fortune tellers. 

Stiles stopped and turned to Scott. “Can you still call me ‘dude’ when we’re dating? Serious question.” 

Scott ignored him and kept walking. “She could be wrong, you know,” Scott mused instead.

“Might as well find out,” Stiles quickly replied before bumping his shoulder against Scott’s. Scott gently bumped Stiles' shoulder back in answer.


End file.
